Dawning: Diplomacy
by White Aster
Summary: Galloway's surprise visit reminds Optimus that interplanetary politics should be the Lord High Protector's job. Megatron demonstrates how it's done. (Set post-peacemaking but pre-sparklings in the Dawningverse.)


"-ecurity Administration, and I WILL see the officer in charge here, soldier, now stand aside!"

Lennox froze in the middle of his conversation with Optimus. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck."

"Colonel Lennox?" The Autobot leader's voice rumbled concernedly through Lennox's earpiece.

"Where is Colonel Lennox?" a much less authoritative voice rang up from below, louder.

"Ah," Optimus replied, obviously having heard through the microphone. "I see. Shall we continue later, then?"

"Yeah, I'll call you in a few. Lord only knows what he wants. He knows you're not here."

"Keep us apprised, Major."

"Can do, big guy. NEST-2 out."

"Major Lennox!" Ah, damn, he was getting closer. Some traitor must have pointed Lennox out.

Lennox looked over the far edge of the scaffold. Sides and Arcee were down there, glancing over at Galloway with what Lennox could easily see was distaste. Lennox's earpiece crackled and then Arcee's voice sounded in his ear, his earpiece picking up the team frequency all the Autobots could transmit on. "Jump off the scaffold," she suggested, sounding only half joking. "I'll catch you. Sides'll run interference. Have you out of here in five point three seconds."

"Don't tempt me," Lennox muttered.

"Major Lennox! There you are."

"Director Galloway. A pleasure, as always," Lennox deadpanned, finally walking over to look down from the scaffold. Galloway had a suspicious number of suits with him. They swept along the hanger floor like a formation of F-22s. Actually, now that he thought about it, Lennox wouldn't mind seeing Galloway getting into it with one of the F-22s around here. They could sell tickets.

When Galloway and his men had all squeezed themselves up onto the scaffold, Lennox said, "What can I do for you, Director?"

"I want to speak with the Cybertronian in charge, Major," Galloway said, lips drawn back in a tight smile that did not reassure Lennox one bit.

"Optimus Prime is in California, Director-"

"Being part of a dog and pony show, yes, Major, I know, but the United States government cannot wait for everyone to be ready for their close-up. Recent events have gravely damaged the United States' credibility in the eyes of the world, and I want to know what will be done about it." Galloway stabbed a finger at the railing next to him. "Now, if your Autobots are any type of military, surely they have a chain of command, and I want to follow it."

_Yeah, follow it to someone uninformed enough to give you the answer you want_, Lennox thought. And though Lennox loved 'Hide to death, Ironhide was a soldier. Him sparring with Galloway on whatever political bullshit the asshole had in mind was a recipe for disaster.

"Now," Galloway said, looking over the side of the scaffold to peer down at the Autobots. "Who is the officer in charge?"

"That would be me."

There was movement over Galloway's shoulder in the hangar door. Large movement. Movement that didn't usually come into the meeting hangar, because he let Optimus deal with the fleshlings. Lennox swallowed, glancing down at Sides and Arcee for a cue as to what the fuck was going on. They were both watching Megatron and Starscream enter the hangar with a tense listening stance that, as Lennox watched, loosened. Arcee looked up at Lennox, her voice whispering in his ear, "Let him take care of it. Optimus agrees."

Lennox gave her an incredulous look that he hoped expressed his level of "are you fucking kidding me?"

Arcee's voice was amused. "Just watch."

"Director Galloway." Megatron's voice was a contained thunderstorm to rival Optimus'. He approached the catwalk and looked down imperiously at Galloway and his almost amusingly terrified coterie of suits. Starscream stood two huge steps back, a crimson-eyed shadow at his  
shoulder.

Galloway had gone so pale that Lennox thought he might keel over. "You," he breathed.

"I don't believe we've been introduced. I am Megatron, leader of the Decepticons and co-leader of the Cybertronian Earth forces. If you are looking for who is in command here in Optimus Prime's absence..." Megatron settled back on his heels with a shift of weight that Lennox could feel through his boots, his optics narrowed in what Lennox dearly hoped was amusement. "That would be me."

Galloway's eyes narrowed. "You may have made your peace with the Autobots, Megatron, but you have yet to exonerate yourself in the eyes of the United States, or any other state for that matter. Your actions in Mission City and Egypt are, most charitably, categorized as crimes against humanity and attempted genocide. We do not treat with war criminals."

_Oh God_, Lennox thought, hand covering his face. On the one hand, he had to give it to Galloway: he had balls. On the other, the man had all the self-preservation instincts of an overenthusiastic puppy.

Instead of squishing him, though, Megatron replied calmly, "I wasn't aware that such charges had been brought, Director. Usually the defendant is notified of such things, correct?"

Galloway turned an interesting shade of red. "That can be ARRANGED."

A puppy on CRYSTAL METH. Lennox shifted slightly to the side, out of Megatron's firing path. Just in case.

Megatron, though, sounded oddly PLEASED. "That is certainly your right, Director Galloway. Though I admit, I assumed you would not want to initiate such proceedings, given their public nature and the inevitable...fallout."

Galloway's eyes narrowed. "What fallout?"

"I was under the impression that your government preferred for its less...savory activities to remain secret, and any prosecution of me would require a full disclosure of how I came to be on this planet...and my treatment since I've arrived."

The suits behind Galloway were starting to look alarmed, Lennox noted, beyond just the fear of getting squished.

The Decepticon leader tilted his head thoughtfully, optics dimming in the way that usually meant a mech was looking something up somewhere. "Your country has a history of defending freedom and human rights, Director. I had assumed that meant you would not want it to be known that your country captured and illegally detained a sentient being for 80 Earth years of medical experimentation and torture." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing even as his voice stayed frighteningly mild. "I find it hard to believe that your scientists did not think that I was awake and aware while they vivisected me. They did, after all, take great pains to keep me restrained."

One of the suits was whispering urgently into Galloway's ear. Galloway continued attempting to stare down Megatron for a moment before something his companion said made him look at the man sharply.

Megatron pressed on. "Thus, Director Galloway, if you wish to bring charges, that is, of course, your right...or should I say the right of the United States? Of course such an action would require the authorization of your superiors. You might want ask them to consider, though: What would they charge me with? Murder? War crimes? Were we at war at the time, legally? Will they charge me as an individual, or as the leader of the Decepticon army? A civilian or a military entity? In American courts or international? Any of these choices would, of course, shape my response and filings with the court in question." He spread his hands and _smiled_. Lennox was not sure how, with a metal face, but Megatron _smiled_, and it was the most terrifying thing Lennox had ever seen. "And, of course, your filing such charges against the recognized and ruling Cybertronian Lord High Protector would have inevitable long-term consequences for Cybertronian-American military, trade, and political relations."

A muscle in Galloway's jaw twitched, and his mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, but he seemed to think better of whatever he'd been going to say.

Megatron just stood there, head tilted ever so slightly to the side, waiting.

The meeting hangar was as silent as a building full of 50 humans and a handful of giant alien robots could be. Lennox dared a glance over at the communications crew, and there were more than a few dropped jaws and stifled smiles. All very professional, of course, but the amount of extra work Galloway inevitably brought with him had not endeared him to any of them.

This story, Lennox realized, was going to be all over the whole base in an hour. Sooner if anyone had a live mic that had picked it all up. Hearing ANYONE take the bastard down so thoroughly was a thing of beauty, let alone MEGATRON. There had been rumors from other installations, other incidents, but Lennox hadn't met anyone who had actually HEARD Megatron school anyone into the fucking ground until now.

Galloway gathered himself, visibly recalculating and abruptly changing tack. "Don't put words in my mouth. The President has made his thoughts on his relations with your people clear." He appeared to want to say something else but bit it off at the last minute as he turned on his heel and nearly ran over one of his companions on his way to the stairs, obviously intent on leaving.

"Was there something else I can help you with, Director?" Megatron asked, the very picture of mild politeness.

"It can wait!" Galloway called, as every eye and optic in the place watched him and his retinue storm out.

"Yes, I imagine it can." Megaton's rumbled response was so low-frequency as to be little more than a rumble to all but the closest human ears. Starscream spat something in Cybertronian that sounded like an outraged modem, and the two of them turned and exited the hanger the way they came.

"That," Lennox murmured to himself, "was awesome."

Arcee's voice murmured back in his ear, making him start. "Before the war, Megatron was known for verbally ripping apart Senators that he disagreed with. From what I've heard, that was pretty tame."

Lennox grinned as he let the comm folks reconnect him with Optimus.

"Hello again, Colonel."

"Ok, I have to ask. Did you do that?"

"Do what?" Optimus sounded just a little too innocent.

"Send Megatron in here to-" _tear Galloway a new one_ "-talk to Galloway?"

"I might have suggested that my Lord High Protector make sure Director Galloway's concerns were addressed to the proper authority, yes."

Lennox grinned harder. "Is this a change in procedure I should make a note of? Just in case Director Galloway decides to show up some other time that you're not here?"

Optimus appeared to think about this a moment. "That is an excellent idea, Colonel. In my absence, you should direct Director Galloway or any other government functionaries to Lord High Protector Megatron."

"So noted," Lennox said.

_Awesome. We can sell tickets AND popcorn._

* * *

Optimus Prime was thankful for many things, these days, but mostly he was unapologetically thankful for the Fallen's death. He was thankful that the Fallen was well and truly gone, and that he would no longer threaten the people of Earth or any other planet. He was thankful that the Fallen's death had finally broken the mad Prime's hold on Optimus' Lord High Protector. He was thankful that his Lord High Protector's coding had not been so irretrievably mangled that he could not countenance peace after millions of years of war (though Ratchet had privately murmured that it had been a close thing.)

Optimus was, ultimately, thankful that he was no longer alone. That he no longer needed to be both Prime AND Lord High Protector of the Cybertronian race.

Which meant that he was very, very thankful that he could hand over some of the Lord High Protector's traditional duties to the Lord High Protector.

::If I'd known that dealing with Galloway would remind you that interspecies negotiations was MY job, I would have said no,:: Megatron grumbled, as he strode forward to meet the Egyptian delegation.

Optimus' reply was caged in sigils for serenity and satisfaction. ::Be sure to apologize for destroying their national treasures.::

Megatron's response was a glyph profane and possibly physically impossible. The Prime just smiled.

* * *

One of the first things that Megatron did once Ratchet declared him sane and fit to rule was to look very carefully over the state of the Cybertronians' treaties with the humans. The Lord High Protector's return to interplanetary politics had Megatron reviewing them yet again.

"Do you trust my judgment so little?" Optimus asked, with only a touch of amusement, as they sat together in their alt forms during one of Earth's night cycles.

"I do not," Megatron replied. "I merely think that the right treaties and statuses will make things easier when it occurs to some enterprising halfwit that I should be held accountable for the lives lost here on Earth."

Optimus vented a sigh. "Try to look at it from their point of view-"

"I can't transform small enough."

Optimus continued as if he hadn't heard. "-your actions were aggressive, destructive, and deadly-"

"Quite true."

Megatron sounded entirely too pleased with himself, which Optimus again chose to ignore. Perhaps he was an optimist, but his spark told him that the remains of Megatron's sadism were mostly habit and a justified dislike of those who had captured and tortured him. "-and they do not know the full story."

Another derisive vent. "As if they could be logical about it if they did. They are remarkably primitive, Optimus. I don't believe them capable of understanding this sudden end to our war, given their own limited experiences. They derisively call the Fallen's influence over me 'mind control'. They dismiss it as a type of MAGIC, not a quantifiable fact. It is like nothing they've ever seen or heard. They understood our war. They cannot understand our peace." Megatron shifted on his treads, as if to ease an ache. The very thought made Optimus do the same, rolling slowly through minute transformations to ease the press on seamed scars left by the mech sitting right next to him.

Optimus thought for a long moment. He could not argue that the human governments had seemed quite unsettled by the sudden end to Cybertronian hostilities. Given the United States government's objections to their war being fought in their territory not too long ago, Optimus did not entirely understand their reaction, and he admitted as much to Megatron.

"Their very psychological makeup prefers black and white categorizations," Megatron answered. "Simple stories. The idea that a 'villain' such as I could become 'good' is illogical to them. Surely I should have been destroyed by the 'heroes' of this tale. Certainly you should not trust and support me. The merging of our forces has them still struggling to decide if your goodness should temper me or if my 'evil' should contaminate you. Their decision-or should I say 'decisions', since we ARE talking about more separate governments than Cybertron ever had-will weigh heavily on their future dealings with us."

"Hmm." Optimus let his response-part agreement, part thoughfulness-rumble through his loosened frame. Beneath his tires, the asphalt cooled in the desert night. Above, the stars of sector 9832-Theta wheeled slowly through the black of space. Beside him, the EM field of Megatron's frame was familiar, companionable. Except for the stars and the organic planet beneath them, they could have been resting on Cybertron, as they had so long ago, at the end of many a long cycle.

"What do you think they will do?" Optimus asked. He had his own ideas, but if there was one thing he had learned, it was that Megatron thought very differently from him, and he was often right (when in his right mind). Not always. But often.

"Do? Nothing. They will continue to be locked in their own political mire, terrified that to anger us will merely send us to their enemies, of which the United States has quite a few. Any other nations will have to deal with not merely us but the Americans, and should the Americans turn on us, well...they may think that they are the sole authority on this planet, or that there is something special about this particular continental shelf, but they are sadly mistaken." Amusement filtered through Megatron's field, and even a bit of anticipation. "The grandstanding, though...ah, I must admit I'm looking forward to that. I am so hoping to be able to point out to a certain undergrown primate that I am a head of state and thus have diplomatic immunity according to all those quaint treaties that you signed."

Optimus thought on that, lazily reviewing said treaties. "They could request your immunity be revoked."

"They could. And would you, as the Cybertronian leader in charge of domestic affairs, do so?" Megatron's glyphs were knowing.

"Of course not. It would restart the war."

"Of course. So, they are left in a quandry. Their laws are written with a great deal of unspoken assumptions about balances of power and the desirability of good will. Their diplomats are given a great deal of leeway, under the assumption that any abuses of this power would be dealt with by the sending nation for the sake of good international relations. But really...what could they do to us? Declaring war would be suicide. Cutting off diplomatic relations would be problematic, but I guarantee you that my relations with China are strong enough that we could have a new base in a matter of planetary cycles. We actually NEED very little of the United States' good will, or Egypt's, or any other country that is likely to come to you complaining of Decepticon activities. If the Earth government was united, we might have a problem, but as it is?" Megatron vented derisive dismissal. "Their chaotic state structures make it incredibly easy to evade their laws. Many humans do it simply by crossing a border. Even that requires a team of lawyers to extract them, and that is without the harboring country lifting a finger beyond the minimum."

"I would really rather NOT antagonize the Americans," Optimus said mildly.

"Are you certain? The Chinese are actually quite reasonable. Their governmental structure reminds me of Cybertron in a very...limited way."

"Quite certain."

"Fine, if you insist." Megatron's glyphs were edged with long-suffering martyrdom. "Spoilsport."


End file.
